I asked for a sign. I’m spiritual, but not religious. I pray for help occasionally, but I don’t go to church. I was crying, desperate. I just didn’t know what else to do. I asked God, the angels, the universe—whoever or whatever was out there and could hear me—to please send me some kind of sign that would help me decide what to do.
Things were unbearable with Jeff. He was constantly depressed and mopey. He was still trying to make our relationship work, but his hold was slipping. He had absolutely ruined my birthday. He came home early from work that day, not so we could have sex, not so he could give me a massage or just spend some extra quality time with me. No, he came home early because he was depressed. Mind you, he had managed to have business meetings all morning and eat lunch with a client, but when he walked in the door on my birthday, all he could manage for me was a peck on the cheek and “I’m going to lie down.” He didn’t even ask me how my early morning volleyball games had been, or whom I’d heard from that day. When I brought it up to him later, he defended himself with, “I was depressed. There was nothing I could do about it.” Certainly reminded me of birthdays I’d had as a child—my mother was depressed and unable to pull it out for me either. Is that what I wanted for my future children—“Sorry; I know it’s your birthday, son, but Daddy’s depressed today”? Is that what I wanted for myself?
I cut him a little slack. I was extra sensitive since I wasn’t getting along with my family at that time. I was feeling particularly alone at the time of my birthday, and I probably would have been upset no matter what. We left a week later for a trip to San Francisco, a second chance at a celebration. He ruined that too. I shouldn’t say that really. I had a good time for much of it, and I was determined to enjoy the chance to travel. I relished seeing another part of the country, and we did have some pleasant moments. But overall, he could not bring himself to have fun. Even with so much natural beauty, he was numb. I realized that it wasn’t that he couldn’t have fun for me or plan fun things for us to do together—he couldn’t do it for himself.
The week before I asked for the sign, things were going great. We’d had a fight on the weekend, a big ugly one with me screaming and him calming me down—predicated again by his not being able to commit and my huge insecurity because of it.
